For Strength and Understanding
by JustInunotaisho
Summary: As Lord Xarkun picks up where the Emperor left off, Choquet D'Var roams the galaxy, training in the dangerous ways of the Sith in preparation for a final showdown with Lady Sera and her comrades. Meanwhile, Eitn trains, hoping to one day find him again. D
1. Prologue: The Last Fall

A/N: An RPG between-fic. I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters except for Choquet D'Var, Eitn Leesra, and Tanfa. Written for Senator Elizabeth Organa and Rimera, who, for some odd reason, enjoy my writing.

When the vision of a young Mistryl and a strange silver-haired woman appeared to the Sith apprentice in the early hours of the morning, he woke up and rolled onto his back.

It was time to leave.

High above, the heavens with their scattered silver shards hazed with the approach of day. Around the Sith apprentice, the night noises of creatures on the hunt were gradually lessening and one or two birds chirped in the blueleaf trees around him.

Rubbing his eyes, he sighed and sat up. His chin itched. Time to shave again. He reached over to a small pile of clothing next to him, picked up a cylinder of rolled up cloth, and stood. After he stretched and took a moment to appreciate the cool sunless air against his skin, he turned and approached the nearby lake. On the opposite shore, a dark temple loomed over the treetops, exuding a blackness that seemed to swallow all noise and light.

Unperturbed, the Sith apprentice unrolled his cloth, revealing four lightsabers that clacked against one another. For a second, he studied them, then selected the one with the longest handle and activated it. An orange blade shimmered forth, crackling and humming in the air. He adjusted the knobs on the handle and it shrank to the length of his index finger.

Then, ever so carefully, he began to shave his face with the deadly blade, knowing that one slip could cost him his life or worse, cut another hole in his already over-patched cargo pants.

Two years was a long time to remain isolated from civilization and he grew to learn that clothing had to last. Besides, wearing a shirt during the humid day seemed pointless. It was the rainy days when he needed one, and even then the temperature was not uncomfortable.

Such was the fourth moon of Yavin, once the host of the Rebellion under threat of extinction, now the soon to be former home of one Choquet D'Var, ex-Imperial Infiltrator, ex-mercenary, and last student of the legendary Sith Lord, Exar Kun.

Through the hidden paths of the jungle, D'Var ran, leaping over fallen trees and rushing streams. Woolamanders hooted and shrilled as he flew past their nests; once or twice in the dim morning light, he caught a glance of a furry form up in the trees.

Still, he ran on, flowing under low branches and around mossy boulders, his stride almost a dance as he skirted obstacles. When the Sith reached a clearing, he raised his eyes to the horizon. Over the treetops, a huge black mountain jutted, outlined with an orange aura that denoted Yavin's imminent rise.

He blinked, then concentrated, the dark side of the Force trickling into his body…

Beneath his feet, the grass blurred; the trees whipeed past, gapping the scream of wind in his ear-

Then, the jungle was spread out before and below him as he sat on the mountain's crater rim, breathing easily.

A brief nudge of warning from the Force brought him to his feet. Behind the Sith, a distant roar from the mountains depth grew louder until the mountaintop erupted in a fiery fountain of molten rock and choking smoke.

Lightsaber already in hand, D'Var ignited it. On either end of the long handle, blades of bright orange beamed forth and he twirled the double bladed lightsaber to deflect the rock shards and lava drops lancing his way. Planting his feet firmly on the slender ledge of the rim, the Sith whirled and bisected a head-sized globule of heated debris flying towards him. The two pieces barely passed on either side of his head, the heat of their passage almost breaking his force shield. _Time to go, _he thought.

It was at that moment he realized he could not move his feet; D'Var looked down and found lava pooling over his boots, covering him. If not for his Force shield, his feet would be mere chunks of burned flesh. Bending his knees, he jumped. The sudden force was enough to break free of the lava's hold and he landed further down the slope, disengaged his saber, stowed it, and continued down the side of the erupting volcano as though he was enjoying a stroll through an Alderaanian garden, as though escaping an erupting volcano was a daily occurrence, as though the wraith-like form hovering at the bottom of the mountain was not trying to kill him.

The spirit of Exar Kun raised his hands, sending a roiling tide of darkness through the Force.

With another almighty roar, the ground before D'Var cracked, lava rising in a sheet and swamping over him, driving him to his knees. The melted rock slid over his form like a living mold, cooling until his struggles ceased. Tendrils of red light in the stone faded out with a hiss.

Exar Kun lowered his hands. The volcano silenced itself gradually, letting off hisses of steam and gas now and then; as quickly as it had trickled out, the rest of the lava cooled, leaving zigzags of fresh raised rock down the mountainsides.

The Sith Lord gazed down at the frozen rock form that had been his pupil, breaking the silence. "If you knew anything of the Sith, you would have known this day would come, Choquet D'Var." Drawing closer, the spirit reached out to draw a transparent hand over the lava-entombed body. "If the apprentice does not overthrow the master, then he will perish." An echo-y chuckle rattled in his throat. "But then, that would have been impossible for you, fool. I am Exar Kun, who was hailed as the greatest Sith Lord in the universe. And, once I possess your remains and kill this pitiful 'Emperor Xarkun,' I shall be thus known again."

He was cut off by the sound of tearing rock. The crouching statue stood up and shrugged the hardened shell from his shoulders. D'Var coughed, fresh air flowing into his lungs, and wiped his sweat-sheened face. "You're right," he admitted. "I know little of the Sith, but I do know they like to monologue a lot."

Getting over his surprise faster than D'Var expected, Exar Kun nodded. "I have indeed taught you well-" His hands moved again, stretching out like claws toward his apprentice. "-Or have I?" Invisible bands of dark Force pressure wrapped around D'Var's body, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Impressive," continued Exar Kun, drawing nearer. "Your control over the force allowed you to create a barrier a scarce few molecules thick to block the heat and rock."

"Right," admitted his apprentice. "Then, when the lava hardened, I expanded the shield and shattered it."

"And yet, you are still unable to use the Force on distant subjects." Exar Kun raised his head, the shadow of his hood moving and revealing a triumphant smile. "The result is here and now – I have trapped you with the abilities you cannot use."

D'Var ground his teeth, unable to do more than glare at the spirit.

"Oh, do not worry my foolish apprentice…" Exar Kun placed both palms on D'Var's forehead, his hands feeling like two burning chunks of ice. "Rest assured that I will use your abilities in perfect unity with my own. In a way, you _will_ be able to use the force in the ways you were unable to before."

Surprised widened the Sith apprentice's eyes and Exar Kun brought his full power to bear in that moment.

"Aha. What have we here?"

Exar Kun sneered around at his new surroundings. Lights on the console flickered red, gleaming off the flight controls and levers. Out of the viewport of the ship, a black hole swirled, grasping light and gulping it down.

It was growing bigger.

Which meant they were heading straight toward it.

"It's the _Wounded Marnock_."

The Sith Lord turned to see an Imperial officer standing behind him, Corellian by the look of him. Down either side of his pants, a decorative crimson stripe was sewn. "Who are you?" he demanded. "This is the center of D'Var's soul. What are you doing here?"

Laughing, the officer crossed his arms. "Looks like you managed to fool him, Choc…" He nodded to someone behind Exar Kun.

Whirling, Exar Kun snarled to find Choquet D'Var sitting in the pilot's seat, appearing haggard and weary. Yet, around him, a strength burned and his eyes glared up at the spirit with no trace of fear. When he spoke, it was the same. "Yes, this is the center, but until now, you could not penetrate it."

"Yes, you let down your guard," smirked the Sith Lord, though he could not rid himself of a small feeling of unease. "It was so easy to insert myself into your very existence. Soon, I will master you and all this-" he gestured all around. "-will cease to exist. You will cease to exist."

"Want to bet?" The officer behind him asked quietly. "You didn't insert yourself so easily."

"What?"

"Chocky let you in!" exclaimed a young voice. Whipping around once again, Exar Kun found a young Mistryl standing next to the officer, arms crossed. One of her eyes was missing, but the other stared down the Sith Lord with an incredible strength in its blue depths.

Looking out the view port, D'Var noticed the black hole flicker for a split second, then grow larger.

"Who are you all?!" demanded Exar Kun, his rage trickling out in his voice and through the Force. "How can you be here? I sensed only D'Var!"

"Sith buggers think they know everything." Flicking a few switches, another Corellian exchanged eyerolls with D'Var and leaned back in his chair. "Choc can mask his aura, you idiot. And those memories you thought he got rid off when he first came here? Not gone. Buried."

"You mean…?" Now Exar Kun was openly surprised and not a little panicked.

"Correct."

At the sound of another female voice, both the Sith Lord and D'Var turned around.

A fourteen-year-old girl stood in the door of the cockpit, dressed in mechanics overalls and face smudged with engine grease and a smirk. "Yo. The name's Tinder, one of Choc's memories. Pleased to kill ya."

"I'm Eitn. Ditto." The young Mistryl nodded.

"Tanfa." The Imperial officer introduced himself.

Before the copilot could introduce himself, Choc nudged him. "This's _tinshou_."

"What? Do you mind, kid?!" he complained.

A low laugh grew in volume until Exar Kun was guffawing. "You fools. How does a group of children and non-jedi expect to kill me?" he bellowed, reaching out to grasp the Force, his anger turning his spirit darker, dimming the lights from the console, and speeding the rotation of the black hole. The ship trembled beneath them all as the gravitational pull of the anomaly drew them closer. "I have defeated death!"

"Perhaps you cannot be killed." With that admission, Choquet D'Var, or "Choc" as he was known to many, stood up and advanced. "But how about defeated?" Without warning, he thrust both hands into the center of the spirit of the Sith Lord.

A blazing fire spread from the touch, quickly surrounding them both; other streams of flame billowed from each of the others in the cockpit. From the young Mistryl's eye came a bright blue fire, from the two Corellians, a scarlet flame, matching that of their Bloodstripes, and the girl smiled, a white fire trickling from her mouth. Every flame lashed around the Sith Lord, chaining him. He screamed – their touch was powerful, a sheer pain he felt only once before when he had died. "Mercy!"

"Relax."

Utterly confounded, Exar Kun opened his eyes to find Choc gazing up at him with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. Pity? "You will live on," assured the Sith apprentice. "In much the same manner I would have if you succeeded. A memory, held by them."

Around them, the group nodded once.

"Let go, Exar Kun." Behind Choc, the black hole flickered again; simultaneously, the tremble of the ship ceased for a moment. Then, the anomaly vanished utterly, along with the shaking. The colors of the flames mingled, swirled, brightened, blinding him-

Stars returned outside the viewport and the sound of unstrained engines thrummed beneath their feet. Like a top-heavy pole left without support, Choc fell to the deck, unconscious.

"We did it." Tanfa raised an eyebrow, while Eitn crouched down to check on the Sith apprentice. Nodding, the other Corellian stood up and stretched.

Tinder breathed out a sigh of relief, joining the young Mistryl and taking one of Choc's hands. "This is only the beginning."

Tanfa sighed. "I'm afraid so."

A/N: Perhaps an Eitn chapter next...


	2. Chapter 1: Coming of Age and Relatives

A/N: I think I am still exploring the establishing of force bonds and the separation of the bonded. Anyway, more back story. Celia Durasha is not an original character of mine, by the way, but from Tales of the Empire or Tales of the Republic - something like that. I wrote another two stories with her and Choquet D'Var's half brother in case anyone is interested.

Chapter One – Coming of Age

Morning did not exist on Nar Shaddaa.

At least, not the true morning of fire and purple against the horizon as the sun rose over the shadowed forests of Lankashiir. For Perin Durasha, _that_ would always be morning to him, not mere digits changing on a chronometer. On Nar Shaddaa, there was not sunrise, merely the floating city orbiting into view of Nal Hutta's sun.

Still, certain things denoted morning, even without the sunrises and with the chronometer. Waking up with a hangover, for example. Not remembering the events of eight hours before, for another.

Perhaps the ultimate sign was waking up beside a teenaged female Mistryl, her long hair messy and draping over his chest while her forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. Both her arms hugged his torso, not allowing him to move.

Panic flooded his brain and he blinked, taking a hasty inventory. _Good. Clothes still on._ As much as he prided his scoundrel reputation and as much as he liked her, he knew it would break her heart if they did anything along _that_ line.

Eitn Leesra still held on to that pearl of belief, of hope that Choquet D'Var would find her once again.

Memory quirked.

Yesterday was Eitn's birthday. They'd gone to Shug Ninx's garage where their grizzled friend surprised the young Mistryl with a party. Now that she was legal, the drink flowed like never before. And just this once, Perin didn't attempt to complain or prevent Eitn from imbibing.

He at least backed off from the Wookiee alcohol and remained sober enough to drag Eitn home at about 0300.

_Taking the keycard from her pocket, Perin slid it through the door scanner. When it hissed open, he hauled the near-comatose Mistryl through. Her apartment looked lived in, not overly cluttered but not the cleanest. Only one room and a refresher; the kitchenette, fold-out cot, and a bedraggled couch were all in the same area. This part of Nar Shaddaa boasted cheap living space of the miniscule variety._

_Continuing inside, the Lankashiirian hefted Eitn onto the cot, stood straight, worked the kinks out of his back. His surroundings swam before his eyes and he swayed, managing to sit on the cot next to her rather than collapse to the cheap carpet. "Stang, where did Draygo get Whyren's Reserve? That vintage should be illegal…" he muttered, shifting his weight, then froze as Eitn rolled over._

_"Choc?"_

_Realizing she was still asleep, Perin didn't have the heart to correct her. Not after the last time this happened. "Yeah? Eitn?" He watched as she lifted her head off the pillow. Even if she was lucid enough to talk, she probably couldn't see what with being drunk and the apartment's low lighting._

_This must have been the case because her hands reached up, grasped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down next to her. Digging her nose into his neck, she sighed, arms wrapping around him, her alcohol-laced breath wafting up into his face. "Don't leave, Choc. It wasn't your fault. Is that why you're leaving?" She hugged him tighter. "Choc, it's okay, really…I can still see."_

_"Eitn, it's all right…"_

_A warm liquid trickled down his neck, soaked the collar of Perin rough shirt. Eitn's body shook, muffling her sobs against him, and her hands grasping fistfuls of his leather jacket. "Choc, don't. Please. I'll stop stealing your vibroshiv, I swear! Just let me stay by you."_

Perin did the only thing he could in his position and ran his fingers through her hair, working apart the braids so it was free and tangled to the touch. "It's okay, Eitn," he shushed her, ignoring the guilt he felt. Normally, the Lankashiirian would have tried to avoid this contact, but the last time she was like this, her cries could be heard all night, even through the metal walls that separated their apartments.

_Gradually, her sobs subsided, though her embrace did not. Her tears took a bit longer and she still sniffled now and then. Perin dropped off soon after, unable to move without waking her._

Now, as he gazed into Eitn's sleeping face, noting the pleasant curves of her ears, the smoothness of her skin and the pleasant contrast between it and the cinnamon waves of her hair. Across her left eye, a patch hid most of a scar that crossed from middle forehead to left cheekbone. It did not detract much from her looks but added a bit of impishness to her features.

Perin admitted to himself she was beautiful. He had taken the charge to protect her seriously and had done so over the past two years. While the Lankashiirian became good friends with the young Mistryl, he kept his feelings restricted to an older brother type affection for her. He hated it more than anything when she cried like she had last night.

9191919

Shug Ninx's garage was a land of mechanical wreckage and marvel. From magnetic clamp on the ceiling hung remains of ships. The nose of an X-Wing, the left flight panel from a Tie-Intecepter, and half of an ancient Sorosuub freighter were among the many over the heads of the dozen mechanics crawling over the ships below.

Near the far wall, the _Wounded Marnock_ rested, an R4 unit performing diagnostics on its port engine. While Eitn strode that way, Perin spotted Shug Ninx attending to a sleek Firespray class freighter and went over to talk to him. The mechanic sparked the welding torch and played it over a loose bolt, the fierce blue light bright in his dark goggles. Waiting for him to finish, the Lankashiirian let his gaze wander over the ship.

Freshly painted a glossy black, the Firespray appeared an eighth larger than the older Firespray 31 patrol and attack craft. Above the cockpit and around the perimeter, five maneuvering jets were set into the sides. As for the large tail, instead of twin blaster cannons, a pair of quad lasers flanked either side of the end, set for 360-degree y axis rotation. From the way the light glistened off certain lines on the metal surface, Perin guessed there were a few more surprises within her. Across the side of the ship on the copilot side, silver letters spelled out the name: _Togorian Phoenix._

Just to look brought an itch to touch it and Perin passed a hand lightly over the side. "Wow…" he murmured.

"Like it?"

Turning, Perin coughed in surprise. "Aunt Celia?!"

With a short laugh, the short, scarlet-haired woman embraced him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. "How are you, Perin? The last time I saw you was, what…on Ord Mantell?"

A sheepish grin falling across his face, the younger Lankashiirian broke away and rubbed his hand along the side of his neck. "Oh, yeah. That time." He felt the skin under his fingertips heat up as he blushed.

Her emerald eyes narrowed with an amused smirk. "So, does your lady friend know about your 'souvenir?'" she prodded, tilting her head to where Eitn chattered with a group of mechanics and pilots clustering around the _Wounded Marnock_.

By the way Perin's grin melted, Celia immediately realized she had said the wrong thing.

Throwing a glance over toward the young Mistryl, the pirate bit his lip. "Uh, can I talk to you?" He motioned at the Firespray. "In private?"

One of her eyebrows arched. "Ah. Why do I detect an ominous aura surrounding that statement?" Her gaze glinted, a fragment of steel appearing. "I do hope my nephew has been a gentleman…"

"No fear." Perin followed her up the ramp.

The interior of the ship was sparse, possessing only necessary amenities to free up more cargo space. For the same reason, the cages and holding cells customary to the Firespray class had been removed as well. Stacks of cargo containers and cylinders littered the hold. "Oh, I see you've been doing well for yourself," he remarked.

"Yes. The Freedom Alliance has us flying escort and smuggling both." Celia nudged two containers together and sat down on one, her black dewback-hide jacket squeaking. "Have a seat." Reaching down, she opened a footlocker and pulled out two bottles of Elba water. "So, Perin, what's new?"

The young Lankashiirian cracked the seal on the bottle she gave him and took an extended draught. "Well, you know back when Coruscant fell?"

"How could I forget?" Wincing, Celia also drank deep. "Imril lost his parents and sister in that attack."

"Sorry, I didn't know." After a respectful silence, Perin continued. "I was on Coruscant that day, too. While the Imps were picking over the remains of the Jedi Temple, I snuck on site in typical arrogant overlord disguise, scared off two techs, and downloaded about half of the library archives and destroyed the rest."

With a chuckle, Celia nodded. "Sounds like something your father would do."

"After that, I bugged out. A few dozen blocks away, this freighter lands right next to me. Guess who was on board?"

Celia shrugged.

"Did Uncle Imril tell you he had a brother?"

Her look of astonishment was priceless.

"Choquet D'Var. He knew how you met Imril and his nickname in the Imperial Fleet. Went on to say he was Imril's illegitimate brother."

Shaking her head, Celia grinned. "So I have a half brother-in-law? Better than a full one, I suppose. What's he like?"

"Abrupt. Blond-reddish hair. Tanned. Tall. Looked ex-Imperial."  
"Wow," His aunt leaned back, stretching out her legs. "That seems to run in both our families. Imril defected, I defected, this Choquet defected. I had no idea I was related to so many do-gooders."

"Anyway, he was traveling with her," went on Perin, motioning through the ramp opening at Eitn, the young Mistryl climbing on top of the _Wounded Marnock_. "She was unconscious so he told me to fly her to Nar Shaddaa and lay low for awhile."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Celia stared at him. "Why?"

"Hey." Perin shrugged. "If you were a guy and someone asked you to take care of a young, beautiful Mistryl, wouldn't you? I admit I thought I had a chance at first, but then…" Drawing a hand over the side of his jaw, the younger Lankashiirian shook his head "It seems like there's something missing inside her. I know that sounds dumb, but it's true."

The woman dug her fingers into her shoulder and kneaded the muscle there. "Huh. Interesting."

"And from one of the guys who knew him and actually copiloted the _'Marnock_ once or twice told me someone told him that he's Force sensitive."

"The copilot?"

"No. Choc."

"So you think the Mistryl kid's attraction is a Force thing?"

Chuckling ruefully, Perin raised an eyebrow. "Dunno as she'd put it that way, but it's possible. Not that I'm an expert." The memory of Eitn's tears trickling down his collar sobered him and his jaw tightened.

Celia chucked her empty bottle down the ramp and watched it bounce out into the bay. A passing smuggler glanced down as it tapped against his boots and kicked it out of the way. "What about the records you stole?"

"Stole?!" Perin's voice rose to indignant squeak level.

"Rescued, then," amended his aunt. "Do you still have them?"

"No, when I met the copilot, he was part of the Freedom Alliance. He was on friendly terms with a Republic senator and assured me he could get the data into Jedi hands."

Her jacket creaking, Celia shifted on the container. She shot him a knowing glance and did not say anything. Silence stretched between them.

Then, from an inner pocket, Perin took a handful of datachips and jingled them in his palm. "I really am a scoundrel," he mused, turning over one or two. "But I did give them a better deal than usual, so I was entitled. And I did keep the data out of the hands of Evil Sith Overlords."

"Think of it as a medal for your actions, eh?" From a pouch in her belt, Celia produced a slim datapad and switched it on. "Copies of Jedi Jargon and History in exchange for depriving Emperor Xarkun of bedtime reading material."

"Get comfy," warned her nephew. "This could take hours." He got up and poked his head out of the ship. Across the way, Eitn stood on top of the _Wounded Marnock_, rubbing the corrosion off the microwave dish. As he watched, the young Mistryl dodged a rag thrown up at her from a mechanic and stuck out her tongue. "Well, that'll give a few aspiring young men enough time to get their hearts broken by a female Mistryl with the looks of a goddess and personality of Sparkling Lankashiirian Cider."

A/N: Well, what do you think? Good so far? Choc will leave Yavin IV in the next chapter. I am still unsure as to where he will go, however. This chapter dedicated to the Eitn fans.


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